Falls

It was not a long walk. The Crossing Isle was big, but not frustratingly so, and there were paths worn through the trees and grass from generations of traffic through the island. It was much easier getting back to the shore than finding her way away from it, even though she did not retrace her own steps. She was somewhat familiar with the island, and had grown even more so in her search for Rivaini, so she picked a path she felt good about and followed it.

Despite the heavy storm that had chased her away from the western shore of the isle just the other night, the air now was warm from the sun and the snow at the edges of the path was slowly creeping away. Spring was coming quickly. Faolain had not grown much of a winter coat, but she did not mind the cold, and she shivered pleasantly as the chilly evening breeze whisked away the scant black hairs she had begun to shed as spring peered shyly around the corner. It whispered through her short mane as well, which fluttered as they followed the path at a trot. Faolain did not want to keep Rivaini or Iscariot waiting, and the pace she set was brisk, at least for her own small build. She was used to going fast on her shorter legs (though proportionately they were still long for her body; one might say Faolain resembled a gangly filly if one did not look closely). She did not imagine the taller mare would have trouble keeping up.

The closer they drew, the more anxious Faolain felt to arrive, and she knew Rivaini’s anticipation was far worse. She had felt it when they left, and though she could not feel it now—she did not make small talk as they made their way across the isle—she thought it would be odd if the russet mare did not feel some type of way as they approached her lost brother. At some point, though she did not remember making the decision or the transition, she picked up the pace to a more aggressive canter. She hoped she was not kicking earth at her companion.

They broke out of the trees after the sun had already dipped beyond the horizon, and the sky was mostly dark save a pinkish grey hue behind them in the East. The ocean was beating the shore lazily, rhythmically, and the sighing of the waves was hypnotic. Faolain hardly had to raise her head to scent. Iscariot was there where she had left him, and she nickered at him happily before stepping aside to let Rivaini see her brother.

FAOLAIN